Just a Thought
by Melodious Echo Of Oblivion
Summary: Ever hear the phrase, "A penny for your thoughts?" Well, I'm pretty sick of people asking what I'm thinking. It gets pretty old after a while, especially when you're me.


**A/N: **_Yesss, new fanfic! I got this idea on the way to school today. It's been bugging me, like aaaall day long. ._. So I hope y'all like it. It's gonna be a Zemyx fic, very much fluffy. (: So please R&R! I wanna know if I should continue this or not, since I still have yet to work on Echoing Heart, which this story has no relation to whatsoever. Thank you! And, as usual, I don't own any copyrights that may appear in this story. Thank you and good day to you sirs. (;_

Ever hear the phrase, "A penny for your thoughts?" Well, I'm pretty sick of people asking me what I'm thinking. It gets pretty old after a while, especially when you're me.

My name is Zexion. My last name is of no importance to you, as it wouldn't apply to my story. I'm a song writer for a certain blond-mullet-man whom you've most likely heard of, Demyx. I'd be quite surprised if you haven't heard of him, since his advertisers spend day after day of billboard posting, commercials, and radio announcements just to make sure his show sells out every time. Demyx is a very talented man, his voices flows freely and his sitar playing is phenomenal. Apparently he can play by ear, which is a skill I've acquired as well. But nobody really cares about me. I'm just a song writer. A lonely, love-song addict that makes a living off composing rhyming words into unfathomable rhythms, tempos, and background music.

Despite the fact that I write nearly all the music and lyrics to Demyx's songs, I'm not very well known. The closest thing I get to publicity is if you look up the writers to his songs on your iPod. Not so great. I don't mind though; paparazzi can get a little out of hand at times.

Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever be more than a song writer. When I was younger, I used to strive to become a famous doctor that roamed the world to help those in need. But when my rich family suddenly became bankrupt, I was forced to improvise to other careers. I grew up surrounded by musicians and singers, and I suppose that some of their aptitude rubbed off on me. I then had the ability to play by ear, write songs on the spot, and submit them to random companies before the deadlines. You could call me Mozart, I guess. When we used to have parties and such gatherings at our house, I would be asked time and time again to perform a new composition I had come up with. But, I refused, for I never thought music would get me anywhere in life. I was to become a doctor and spend the rest of my life peaceful and content without the stresses of performing in front of crowds. _That_ was my dream, dear reader. Sadly, unfortunately, that never happened due to an unexpected family bankruptcy.

Paparazzi drive me mad. Even though my name is not as well-known as Demyx's, I can still be recognized from quite a distance away. My hair is an in-between shade of blue and gray, with bangs covering one eye. And my noticeable eye is somewhat gray, as well. I wear black on a daily basis, which is ironic since I write love songs, normally those colors being red and pink. So when the reporters approach me, it's always, _always_, _always_ about my next masterpiece for Demyx. I've tired myself over and over just from answering their bothersome questions by telling them it's a secret and if they're that curious they should buy tickets and see for themselves. But, being the lousy reporters they are, are too lazy to go out of their way and buy an expensive ticket to see a dirty blond (not in a perverted sense) sing on a sweaty stage backed up with massive lights that illuminate the night.

Speaking of Demyx. I've known him for quite a while, 2 years, 3 months, and 6 days, to be exact. He's a very bubbly character, and just by looking at him you can determine his personality. His eyes are between a debatable shade of aqua green to aquamarine _(_**A/N: **_Pffft, a rhyme) _and his hair is the dirtiest blond I've ever seen in my days. He has a bony structure but he manages to lift the heaviest of amplifiers without the help of his staff. And what makes it more amusing is that he's only a measly 5 feet 3 inches, whereas his security and such are at least 6 feet and bulky. How stereotypical, those bodyguards. Built up with muscles, and muscles only. Under that is the stony interior they call a heart. Lucky for Demyx he doesn't call for them often; he loves his fans too much to block them out. He's kind and generous; he always donates a quarter of his paycheck to charities, and another quarter to school bands in whatever town he's playing in. He's dedicated, loyal, honest, courageous, everything someone would look for in a guy. Including me.

The day I found out I was gay for Demyx wasn't my greatest. In fact, I was more confused than I had ever been in my life! I fell for him, and I fell _hard_. It makes me wonder if it's really meant to be. I realized how smart and hopelessly funny he is, how witty, how charming, how beautiful he is.

And I realized all of this 2 years, 3 months, and 6 days ago.

I swear, that was one of the most craziest days in my life. I locked myself up in my room (which I only had a day left to be in, we had to sell our house and move out by morning) and would only come out to eat dinner (which consisted of peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, _so_ not my standard). My parents were constantly worrying about me through the day, though I assured them I was just spiffy and was just a little down about leaving the house. But what happened that day was a completely different story, I'll assure that to _you_.


End file.
